45 Days Without You
by Wendy Pierce
Summary: "She had my looks; from my brown locks to my brown eyes. That girl had my attitude. And that girl lived in the skin of someone who usually didn't crack under pressure. Instead of saying something intelligent, she decided to stay quiet. She allowed Brady to be the one who got away; to slip out of her fingers ever so easily."
1. DAY 1: Misery

**What is there to say other than this is a new story? And that I own nothing other than my OC that will be mentioned in a couple chapters? Other than that, enjoy this chapter. Mikayla is OOC. **

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**DAY 1: Misery  
**Dear Diary,

I can't believe I'm doing this. First of all, I don't really like diaries; it's such a girly thing in my opinion. And secondly, I'm using this to record how many days I go without….well_…_Brady.

Let me begin by explaining why I even started talking about him. Well, everyone on Kinkow knew about Brady's 'little' crush on me. Everyone including the creatures that roamed the Dark Side knew about that! Yeah, that's how bad his crush on me was. And, I must admit, I might have had _some_ feelings for him.

Just don't tell anyone! Oh, who am I kidding? You're a journal. It's not like you're going to pick yourself up and tell the closest person, right? That was why I'm glad you're nothing but a book that will contain my secrets…I should probably re-write that sentence, shouldn't I? Forget it. I already wrote in ink, there's no way I could ever go back and re-write that.

Back to Brady, I didn't know what to do. He just left one night because of one girl.

A girl who couldn't make up her mind.

And couldn't keep her secret hidden well.

She seemed so naïve, so unprepared.

Unprepared to love. And to allow people to love her back.

She had my looks; from my brown locks to my brown eyes. That girl had my attitude. And that girl lived in the skin of someone who usually didn't crack under pressure. Instead of saying something intelligent, she decided to stay quiet. She allowed Brady to be the one who got away; to slip out of her fingers ever so easily. I hated that girl.

That _girl_ was me.

When I heard the news about Brady's sudden disappearance, I knew it had been my fault. That was too much for me to handle so I ran up to my room as fast as I could and closed the door. I walked from the door to my bed, where I then cried myself to sleep.

An hour later, I woke up, terrified. Sweat ran down the back of my neck. It didn't take me forever to realize that I was having a nightmare. I just didn't know what it was about. Brady, I thought but shook my head. When I laid back down, sleeping didn't seem like an option at all. So, I walked over to my desk and wrote this diary.

What the heck was wrong with me? I felt as if everything should be blamed on me and then I have a nightmare about the boy who left to become 'mature'. Could things get any worse, I had thought to myself. Because, by the looks of it, without Brady, my life was beginning to change.

These were all the thoughts that ran through my head. It continued to haunt me like a ghost—following me everywhere I went until I was scared out of my skin.

And the weather didn't help me the least bit.

Dark clouds filled the sky—a perfect way to describe how I was feeling that day. A storm was coming, I knew it. But I didn't dare move. I allowed a strong wind to knock me off my feet and to the floor. I might sound mad, but I was enjoying it. I was enjoying every single moment.

A cold breeze ran down my back and I didn't shiver. My dad ran up to me with a blanket in his hands. He tried to wrap it around me—tried to keep me warm. Instead of letting him do so, I jerked away. The wind had grew stronger and for the second time, I was knocked off my feet. It was amazing how I didn't lose consciousness when I bumped my head.

After collapsing to the floor I got up and walked. By that point, I knew that my feet were moving separately from my brain. Because, before I knew it, I was heading towards the ocean. My feet were taking led, not even allowing my brain to question what I was doing. Did I hate myself so much that I wanted to drown? I suppose so. Maybe I wanted to go swim towards Brady. To find him. And to bring him back.

As mad as I sounded, I still couldn't stop myself. I heard the voices of my father and Boomer. Even their voices couldn't stop me from whatever trance I was in. _I_ couldn't even tell what trance_ I_ was in. My brown hair fell in front of my face as I stared down at my feet. It was in charge of me so what was I supposed to do? My body wanted me to jump in. My brain turned off. I was prepared for the cold water that I was about to enter-I was prepared to die.

The storm was still going on, growing bigger and more destructive by the second. I risked a glance at them, my hair blowing in front of my face. They were the family I had left and I, for some reason, didn't want to see them ever again. They stood silent, finally realizing that they had to let me go. And I had to do the same. I stared at them for a long time, remembering their appearance and what joy they had given me. I remembered every little detail about them so I can memorize them. In Heaven.

A sad smile crossed my lips as I gave them a two finger wave.

And turned back to the ocean.

And jumped.


	2. DAY 2: The Guilt Trip

**Blame homework and parents for the late update-they both won't allow me to finish a chapter! I own nothing but my OC which will sort-of be introduced in this chapter.**

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**DAY 2: The Guilt Trip  
**Dear Diary,

Luckily, that jump didn't kill me. Otherwise, I wouldn't be writing this. The cold water from the ocean felt somewhat refreshing. And I didn't want to leave so soon. But I had to. Once I resurfaced, a pair of hands reached out and pulled me back to land. I suppose it was my father because there was absolutely no way Boomer would have found the strength to lift me like that.

So, I am indeed alive. Some of the villagers believed I attempted suicide; even though I didn't, it looked like that to them. My dad was concerned for my safety and Boomer was concerned for my mental health. Apparently, diving into the ocean in the middle of a storm will make a teenage boy look at you as if you're mad-which you might or might not be.

Anyways, I ended up getting a cold. It was a small one, so it meant nothing to me. If I had the strength to get up, then the cold didn't bother me the least bit. But, my dad, being so overprotective, decided to keep me in my room until it went away. I mean, it was not a big deal and he acted as if I had the flu! Even after telling him it was something he shouldn't worry about, he made the royal servants look after me! Unbelievable!

He also thought that I was going to pull off another crazy stunt so he had the royal guards stand outside of my bedroom door and by my window. I'm pretty sure that if anything happens, they wouldn't be able to stop me. Besides, our guards aren't exactly the best at their jobs so I doubt they can prevent me from jumping out of my bedroom window or off the roof of the castle.

Strangely, those ideas seemed to work for me. If I didn't get my freedom anytime soon, one of the guards were going to get seriously injured-and not by how my feet were taking control of me again. But by how being locked up in a room can get very tedious.

According to Candace, I was like one of those princesses in a story. What was her name? Rapunzel, was it? She said that Rapunzel was something of an ordinary girl who was locked up in the highest tower so no one can find her. Rapunzel had long golden hair which many princes tried to climb and save her. There was this one guy who was brave to climb her hair and take her suffering away.

Ha! First of all I don't have long hair. Second of all, as if I need a man to kick butt for me! If I was Rapunzel, I would have climbed down the tower years ago! Wow, I must have been really bored to remember that.

Did you know that not being able to go on your guard shift gives you enough time to try things that you never had tried before? Well, today I learned that I can knit. And I _hate_ knitting. The good that came out of knitting: It wasted time. The bad thing about knitting: I still hated it.

There was a guard change and that was when I saw I chance to run. The guards wouldn't be the wiser. I dashed right out the door and before their eyes. I moved like lightning-quick and unseen. My hands pumped by my side, increasing my speed. Okay, so, being in the condition I was, running was not such a smart idea. But, at that moment, it felt like the right thing to do. With every person I passed, a questionable look crossed their face. And no one tried to stop me.

I ran until I reached the castle doors-until I reached freedom. Fresh air filled my lugs but that didn't satisfy me. I ran from the plaza to the jungle. I_ loved_ the jungle. My foot caught on to a tree root, causing me to fall over.

"Stupid tree." I muttered and picked myself up.

It had been a long time since I climbed a tree. What I didn't know was that it was possible for it to almost murder you. I mean, wasn't that what trees were planned to do in the future-pull out a knife and stab you whenever you fell over it's roots? Or was that my hyper-active imagination running wild again? I shrugged. It didn't matter anyways.

As I walked around, a realization dawned on me. My feet had brought me there for a reason: a guilt trip. You see a guilt trip on Kinkow was a journey you take where you then learn to forgive yourself. But, there was also a bad part to it. If the island didn't think that you couldn't forgive yourself, the worse will happen. So, I just prayed for the best.

Halfway through the journey, everything was fine. Except for the part where I got attacked by a GIANT gorilla! The island must have hated me so much that they sent an APE to deal with me. I reached for the belt on my waist. Nothing. Of course I ran out of the castle with no weapons. What an idiot I was.

The only thing I could do was stand there, wordlessly, with the gorilla hovering over me. I would have screamed. I would have ran. But, might I remind you that when you are weaponless with a hairy beast in front of you, the only thing you had to worry about is whether or not you'll feel the blow. And I never saw it coming.

My eyes squinted shut as I waited for the gorilla to eat or kill me. But I didn't feel a thing. Because, when I opened my eyes, a hooded figure was standing in between me and the ape. The figure pulled out a sword and got into a fighting stance. He stood there, as if he was teasing the gorilla into making the first move.

And the gorilla did. The hairy beast lunged for the figure in front of me. That was a mistake. The figure spun around on one foot, his sword hitting the gorilla's chest, leaving a minor gap. The gorilla ran towards the figure, anger evident in his eyes. The figure, however, knocked the beast off his feet with a flying-drop-kick. He then jabbed the hilt of his sword on the gorilla's chest and shook his head as if to say he was disappointed. The hooded figure raised his sword and stabbed the gorilla were his heart was supposed to be, instantly ending his life.

Not thinking, I ran towards the figure, wanting to thank him. He raised a finger up to silence me. And that was when I saw it: green eyes peeking out through the hood of the jacket.

"Thank you for-"

"It's nothing." he grumbled, his eyes hovering over the gorilla's lifeless body. "Did you come out here for a guilt trip?" Even though he couldn't see, I nodded. "You know you can't walk around without a weapon." He told me.

"I'm the head guard; you'd think I'd know better." I said, offended.

He stood and walked over to me. His green eyes pierced into my brown eyes and, for a second, I thought that I might melt. "Then don't do such a foolish thing."

I would have told him that it wasn't completely my fault; that my feet took control of me again. I just didn't want him to think that I was indeed suicidal (which, might I remind you, I'm not)! Before I could come up with a decent excuse that wouldn't make me sound as mad as I already was, the hooded figure was gone.

Boomer ran up to me, out of breath. "There you are!" He exclaimed. I could of sworn his voice went at least three octaves high. "Where were you?"

"I'd rather not talk about it." I shook my head.

"Let's get you back to the castle." He said, placing his hand in the small of my back and leading me in the direction of the castle. Or what he thought was the right direction.

But I didn't say so because the back of my mind played the image of the green-eyed boy who had just saved my life.


	3. DAY 3: Dropping In

**What is this fandom becoming? I'd like to know myself.**

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**DAY 3: Dropping In**

**Things That REALLY Freaked Me Out:  
**~My thoughts. I had been thinking about the strangest things lately.

~Boomer. Because he sounded like a girl.

~My dad. After hearing about my wondering into the jungle, he went all protective-mode on me. And to the extreme. He even put me on house rest!

~Tarantula People. Without Brady, the island was at its weakest point. The Tarantula People would usually use something like that to start a war. But they've been quiet. _Too_ quiet.

**Things I'm still confused about:  
**~Why Brady suddenly decided to become 'mature'.

~Why I even care about him.

**Questions That I Asked Myself:  
**~Why did I feel as if it was my job to find Brady and bring him back to Kinkow?

~WHY am I still talking about him?

~Am I honestly still talking about him?

~Do I even LIKE him?

**Questions That Didn't Leave My Mind No Matter How Hard I Tried: **

~WHO was that boy that saved me yesterday?

Let's get it straight, I got saved from a GIANT gorilla and I didn't get the right to know my rescuers name? Where's the logic in that?! I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, memories of the green-eyed boy flashing in my mind. Why had he seemed so important to me? And thank goodness I didn't bring him up when I told Candace; I can only deal with one problem at a time, you know.

Ever since I jumped into the ocean, Boomer still wouldn't stop looking at me weirdly, so no way could I get him to get me off of house rest. He did, however, stop by every hour to check up on me. It was nice off him to do so. Talking to him kept me occupied. And no, I am NOT going back to knitting.

After a fun filled hour of playing Go Fish Kinkoweon Style—which Boomer always lost to-I got some alone time. I don't know why, but I was glad that I had no more company dropping by.

Or so that was what I thought before I heard the knock on the window.

And turned to see the hooded figure standing there.

Quickly, I rushed over to the window and threw it open. "How'd you get though the guards? And without them noticing?"

He cocked his head. "Do you honestly think they'd notice me? If they can't hold a sword properly, there is no way they can see someone sneaking right before their eyes."

Even though it offended our guards, I couldn't help but agree. Because I had done the same yesterday. I raised a finger. "You better be glad there were no guards covering my window."

The hooded figure let out a chuckle. "Even if there was, they would never see me coming."

My eyes widened in shock. He probably tied up the guards just to see me for all I knew.

"I didn't do anything to the guards." He said. I could rarely see it, but I could have sworn he smirked underneath his jacket hood. "Why, aren't you going to invite me in?" He gestured to my bedroom.

"The only way I'd ever allow you in is if you'd come through the front door like a civilized person."

"But I'm not normal."

"I don't even know you're name."

"It doesn't matter."

"Oh, so you can know mine but I can't know yours?"

"Everyone on Kinkow knows your name."

"Give me one reason as to why I shouldn't push you off this window." The words came out harder and stronger than I'd expected them to.

He held his right hand up. "I come in peace."

Then, I couldn't take it anymore. My patience with that boy was gone. I grabbed his arm and pulled him into my room, his face meeting the floor. "Then can we have a proper introduction?"

"Who I am is not-_Ouch_!" He exclaimed when I pulled his right arm behind his back. I held his fist in between his shoulder blades— his arm was put in an angle I'm pretty sure your hand wasn't supposed to be in.

"Well it is to me!" And I felt my world spinning. Literally. The hooded figure had retaliated by using the arm I had taken-the hand I still had a good grip on-and flipping me off my feet. I was now the one on the ground.

He held my hands down. "It's cute how violent you are."

"I won't be cute for long!"

If it wasn't for my mind racing with thoughts, I would have attacked. But I didn't. I thought of what could have happened if the guards heard us-if my dad heard us. With the mysterious boy pinning me to the floor, I didn't know what to do. I just froze.

The possible and worst scenarios started forming through my mind. I had allowed a teenage boy to come into my bedroom and pin me to the floor. My dad was definitely going to get the wrong idea. I, for some reason, didn't seem bothered by that.

What did bother me, however, was that I still didn't learn the boy's name. That didn't sound like me, did it? Well, it was not. The girl that had changed me was coming back. She was such a bad person. Out of all the times she could have acted up, that was when she did?

She didn't want the hooded figure to let go of her. She wanted her dad to see that. And she seemed to hate me as much as I hated her. That girl was taking control of me. I believed that she was forcing her way into my brain, and wanted to remain there. She didn't want me to do any of the work. She wanted me to suffer.

And it didn't make me feel any better when I saw a vine swing through my open window, carrying my ex-boyfriend, Lucas.


	4. DAY 4: You Could've Picked A Better Day?

**PLEASE excuse my OC's name-you try coming up with a decent name! Cruddy chapter.**

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**DAY 4: You Could've Picked A Better Day?  
**Dear Dairy,

Getting rid of Lucas wasn't very difficult. The idiot jumped in through the window with no back-up what-so-ever. He didn't even have the right weaponry with him—just a bunch of balloon animals. So, yeah, it was easy to take him down. What I didn't enjoy was when his eyes shifted from me to the boy hovering on top of me.

"Who's this-?"

"No one important!" I rushed to say. I shoved him off and turned back to Lucas. "What are you here for, Lucas?"

"I'm here to-."

"Don't say to get back together with me, that won't work."

"No. Actually I'm here to comfort you." His tone seemed serious. It didn't seem right to me so I didn't agree.

I threw my head back and laughed. "AS IF!" I busted out into a fit of giggles before turning serious again. I leveled a glare in his direction. "Get out before I throw you out."

"I'm serious!" He defended himself.

"Hey Lucas, have you ever wondered what it would be like if you could fly?"

"Now's not the time to joke around."

Before Lucas knew it, I was griping on to the collar of his shirt. I dragged him to the window where I threw him out with all my strength. It was that easy. I then turned to the hooded figure. "Would you like to leave the same way he did?" I asked sweetly.

"I think I'll just allow myself out." He pointed to the window. "Blake." He blurted.

That caught me off guard. "What did you say?"

"Blake. My name's Blake." And then he jumped.

Good thing: I learned his name.

Bad thing: I wouldn't get last 72 hours of my life back. Ever.

While sitting in the plaza, I thought absolutely nothing could go wrong. It was nice to be outside again. With this diary in my lap and a blue feather pen clutched in my right hand, I continued writing. No one disturbed me and for once, I wasn't acting like a psychopath.

But of course, Blake had to stop by.

He always showed up at the weirdest—not to forget worst-points of my life. How strange does that sound? Like he's a stalker, maybe? I mean, the first time I saw him was when he saved me from that gorilla. The next time I got to see him was right before my ex decided to make a return. So, he does come at the most inconvenient times in my life.

"What are you writing?" A voice asked.

"None of your-!" When I turned to the person, I jumped out of my skin. Literally and metaphorically. Because, standing right there before my very eyes was Blake. "What is it with you and your entrances?!"

"I always know how to make an entrance." He sat on a rock beside me.

"Well, stop it." I shut my diary and looked at him. "Now that I know your name, can I know what you look like?"

He shook his head. "One thing at a time, dear."

I shot up, my dairy falling from my lap as I did so. I jabbed a finger on his chest. Then I thought of how anyone could be hiding under that hood. He, for all I knew, could have been a Tarantula in disguise. All though that might have seemed a bit over the top, my guard senses was kicking in and there was no way of stopping me right then and there. After all, the Tarantula People haven't been active in days so it was possible that he could be one of those teenage Tarantula Warriors sent to help weaken the castle.

"Take that jacket off. NOW."

"How adorable." Blake laughed.

My temper was rising. My fists were clenched. And I was more than ready to take that boy down. So, I did. Soon enough, his jacket hood was in my grasp. He was standing, spinning until his back was facing me. No matter how much he tried—and failed—to squirm out of my iron grip, I didn't stop. I jerked his jacket hood back, revealing light brown hair. I then pressed him against the closest wall, where I then saw the true identity of that boy.

His hair was short and simple: a bang ran down the right side of his face. He stared up at me with those green eyes—the same eyes I first noticed about him. And I was well aware of the fact that I was drooling. (Luckily, I hid it well.) I unzipped the zipper to his jacket, feeling the need to do so even though it wasn't necessary. But it was since I was a guard. No weapon belt, no stolen jewelry—even if it wasn't from the castle vault, I would have still kept searching. Turns out, he's just like any ordinary villager living on Kinkow.

Or so I thought.

"Are you going to do a pat down now?" The tone in his voice said that he was teasing. That boy sure was something, alright.

I took a step back. "Don't you even go there!"

I don't know what it was, but I felt as if there was a force pulling me towards him. He held my wrists. A smirk crossed his lips. And I knew that it wasn't going to end well. Because, before I knew it, I was the one pressed up against the wall. My back slammed into the stone wall. A moan escaped my lips.

Why is it whenever we do something like that, he always found the strength to flip me over?

Blake leaned closer. "Just so you know, Makoola, I'd like to stay a secret to Kinkow. It's going to take you years to figure me out. I'm not easy to understand—and I'd like to keep it that way. So, why don't we have fun with it?" His voice was strong and confident. Until that moment, I finally noticed that he was taller than me. _Much_ taller.

The space left between us was something I didn't really like.

"_This isn't goodbye._" He whispered into my ear.

I would have attacked. I would have kicked him places shouldn't be mentioned. Right then, I stopped thinking.

"Mikayla," My father's voice broke me out of the trance I was in. "Who are you talking to?"

"I was talking to-." I stopped in midsentence. We were the only people in the plaza. Blake was gone.


	5. DAY 5: Blake

**BLAME my parents for the late update! This chapter is somewhat long, so maybe that will make up for my absence? I only own my OC, nothing else.**

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**DAY 5: Blake**

_This isn't goodbye. _

_This isn't goodbye._

_This isn't goodbye. _

Blake's words replayed in my head, taunting, teasing-haunting-me. The words he uttered lingered in the air even after he was long gone. It continued to follow me for the rest of the day. A day later, and they were still stuck in my head. Did this mean he wanted to see more of me?

I asked Candace about it which, to be honest, was kind of a mistake. She, being the islands gossip girl and my best (and only) friend, was already a step ahead of me. Candace knew everything that went on the island-including how I meet Blake to what went on just yesterday. Between the both of us.

Fortunately, it only spread through the teenage girls of the island. I shouldn't be relieved, I really shouldn't. Just because my dad wasn't the wiser, doesn't mean that he wouldn't eventually hear about it. And put me on house rest. _Again_. I prayed that he wouldn't figure out.

Anyways, talking to Candace did not help. At all.

"So, tell me about this cute boy of yours." Candace squealed.

"He's not mine." I reminded her, plopping down on a couch in the throne room. Sometimes, I wished that the couch cushions would swallow me up so I wouldn't have to deal with problems-_boy_ problems especially.

"Sure he is. Everyone else thinks so." She sat on the couch across from me, her left leg crossing her right. She flipped her blonde locks out of her face and gave me a dead-serious look. "What's his name?"

"Blake."

"Last name?"

"I'm not sure."

Candace tapped her finger to her chin. "There's only boy who lives on Kinkow under that name."

Evidently, she would know that. She knew everyone's name to their appearance. I could have sworn she had a list of Kinkoweons.

I cocked my head to the side. "No, Candace. I was looking for a Blake who lived in the U.S."

It was a bit rude to reply with a sarcastic comment, but she did give me an opportunity to do so. What was scary was that she looked like she was taking that suggestion into consideration.

"Candace!" I snapped. "You do realize that I was joking, right?"

She crossed her arms across her chest, looking offended. "Now I do."

"Do you know how he looks?" Only I know how he looks, I was the one who bugged him about it yesterday.

"No one does; he's almost like a ghost to the island."

_I'd like to stay a secret to Kinkow. _Blake's words came back to me, only stronger.

"Does anyone try to understand him?" I leaned forward.

"People try, but they usually give up." She shrugged.

_It's going to take you years to figure me out. I'm not easy to understand—and I'd like to keep it that way._

"Blake has this kind of...mysterious personality." Candace's voice took over a dreamy quality. "And mysterious is undeniably attractive."

She wasn't wrong about that. I wanted her to be wrong; I wanted for my theory to be right. I didn't want to admit it. I didn't want her to tell me that I was falling in love. WITH Blake. That couldn't be happening. I wouldn't allow it to happen. PLEASE tell me I'm NOT falling for him!

_This isn't goodbye. _

_This isn't goodbye._

_This isn't goodbye. _

The words continued to play on, growing louder. It pounded in my head like an alarm. The only thing is, I didn't know why. It was almost as if he was right next to me. Then, memories of yesterday flashed by. I remembered how he leaned closer, his voice not over a whisper when he said _This isn't goodbye_.

I ran. I thanked Candace and ran straight towards to the plaza. She ran after me, believing that my feet had taken over me (which they had) and that she had to stop me (which she couldn't).

_This isn't goodbye._

_This isn't goodbye._

_This isn't goodbye._

The words were coming faster and stronger, giving me a headache. I fell to my knees, clutching my head. I felt a hand on my shoulder.

"Are you alright?" a deep voice asked.

But that voice didn't belong to my dad. Kneeling in front of me was Blake. Behind him, I saw Candace on the verge of squealing.

"You." I muttered harshly. "Are you trying to mess with me?"

Under his jacket hood, he smirked. "Of course not. I just want you to know that this won't be the last time you see me."

He stood, and I kicked his feet out from under him. Blake turned to me, shaking his head. "You're such a bad influence!" I yelled, my fist colliding with his side. Believe it or not, the punch hurt me more then it hurt him. My hand throbbed and my head spun. "Who are you really?"

"No one important."

I wanted to punch him again; I wanted for him to feel my pain. But I couldn't because when I looked up from my hand and around the plaza, Blake was gone.

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"Mikayla!" Candace exclaimed after a while. By then, we were in my room. I sat on my bed, Candace pacing to and fro. "Have I taught you NOTHING?"

"What?" The tone I used was sharper and harsher than I'd intended.

"You have to be respectful to a boy who's trying to win over your heart!"

I cocked my head. "I doubt Blake is trying to do that."

"Isn't it obvious that he is head over heals for you?"

"No he is-"

"Then why does he keep coming back?"

That, I must admit, was an excellent question. I had pondered that myself; I just couldn't find the answer. What was it about me that that boy wanted? Did he think that it was fun to play with my emotions? That I could be the one to bring him joy? Impossible! That boy, under my circumstances, would not be able to fool around once I'm done with him!

I shook my head. "I can't even tell you that, Candace."

"Well, you should know!" She stormed out of my room, the large wooden door closing behind her.

"_I should know_." I repeated, nodding my head.

* * *

As I went through all the ways to get Blake back, I also thought of another boy. One who had left me. Brady. When I thought about it, both boys had the same amount of letters in their names. Their names started with a 'B' as well. Strange how I just noticed it. What that meant, I had no clue.

Isn't it just convenient, though? The two boys who had entered my life was probably nothing. But, that's just what I thought. I mean, one boy left, another came! I'd like to know were my life is headed towards exactly. Both boys came into my life for a reason. Two _different_ reasons.

And I was supposed to know why.

One, just to flirt with me. The other, however, still remained a mystery. Were these boys here to mark an important time in my life? Or are they ghosts? Brady now seemed like one to me. And I'm pretty sure Blake is one as well. An actual ghost. Reappearing and disappearing, Blake might not be who he said he was.

_No one important,_ was his last words to me.

What I'd like to know is if he was _no one_, or he was _someone_. He was, according to Candace, nothing to the island. I remembered when he sat on my window stool, his identity still unknown to me at the time.

_But I'm not normal. _

Can you tell me, diary or not, did you think he wanted to be a part of my life, or was he really no one? Someone who was shunned by the island due to his personality. Blake could've been made up. But the conversation I had with Candace clearly said otherwise. I went to bed, Blake's words still lingering in the air.

_This isn't goodbye._

* * *

My dreams that night turned into nightmares. Those nightmares woke me up at eleven at the night. I saw a shadow-a tall and lean figure, to be exact-in the corner of my room. On instinct, my hand gripped on to my machete. I thought that it was due to my loss in sleep that I was imagining it. "Who goes there?" I asked.

There was no response. Just shuffling on the floorboards.

"Show yourself!" I yelled, climbing out of bed and inching towards the person.

Still no response.

"Don't make me come over there!" I threatened, getting into a fighting stance.

Turns out, I wasn't mad. Because, the figure leaned forward, out of the protection of the dark corner, revealing green eyes that light up the room completely. "I wouldn't do that if I were you, Makoola."


	6. DAY 6: Friends?

**DAY 6: Friends?  
**Blake. BLAKE was there. In MY room. And in the MIDDLE of the night. I didn't know how to react. But I'm pretty sure other girls would appreciate it. I, however, did not enjoy it.

I jumped back, falling backwards as my feet hit the ground. My machete flew out of my hands and stuck to the ceiling. My mouth opened to speak, but I was in a loss of words. Because, when a boy is in your room, you're left quite speechless.

"Wimp." Blake muttered, looking at my machete that was now on the ceiling. "You get scared easily."

"Well, what would you do if a person snuck into your room at twelve in the FREAKING morning?!" I yelled.

He shrugged and leaned against a wall. "I'd throw them out of the window."

"What if the window was closed?"

He raised an eyebrow, I think. Due to the darkness of the room I couldn't see him well. His eyes cut through the darkness and shined brighter than the sun would. And, I guess, I might have melted.

"I would still through them out the window."

"But won't that hurt them?"

"It doesn't matter. As long as their gone, I won't have much to worry about."

My gaze shifted to my bedroom window. It was big, with a square pattern. It was also locked which made me question how Blake got into my bedroom. An idea formed in my head. "I'll through you out the same way I did to my ex a couple of days ago."

"Unlike him, I don't want to know what it's like to fly."

A smirk played on my lips. "But you soon will."

"You hate me, don't you?" He concluded.

I shook my head. "I just hate how I don't know you that well."

His figure moved in the darkness, in my direction. I thought that he was going to close the space between the both of us and make his point. But I thought wrong. His warm breath sent shivers down my neck. His hands reached up and grasped my arms. For a second there, I believed that he was going to hurt me.

"Don't you get it, Mikayla?" He asked, his hands trailing up and down my sides. "There's no point in sitting down and getting to know me."

I whipped around and held out my right hand to him. "Can we at least be friends?"

He smirked, making me feel uneasy. Blake shook my hand. "Friends."

~X~X~X~X~

_Mikayla_

_Mikayla_

I heard my name being whispered. I was unable to make out the time of day. Sunlight shined through a window so I believed it was sunrise. I ran around a corner and up a set of stairs. Ran around another corner and was clawing into a door. In between my fingernails, I started bleeding. Pieces of wood forced its way into my hands, not really bothering me at the moment. Something hard materialized in my hand.

_Mikayla_

_Mikayla _

"WHAT DO YOU WANT?!" I yelled, finally waking up.

The face staring at me belonged to Blake. He was holding my shoulders. I followed his gaze which was locked on my right hand. And in my hand was a guitar. One of _Brady's _guitars. We were in the Kings' room, Boomer peacefully sleeping behind me.

"W-What happened?"

Blake took a few steps back, as if I was going to hurt him. "Once you feel asleep, you started screaming. And then you got out of bed and ran. Isn't it obvious?"

I placed Brady's guitar on his old bed. "You must think I'm-."

"Weird? Completely and utterly delusional? Obsessed with the former King?" He finished my sentence for me. Then he shook his head. "No. Not really. You seem perfectly sane to me."

"Yup, you are so not normal." I navigated my way out of the Kings' bedroom and back to my room, Blake following.

When I reached the door to my bedroom, I turned to Blake. "Don't you have to be at home or something of the sort?"

He shrugged. "It doesn't seem important to anyone. I can wonder around-."

But he didn't get to finish because I slammed the heavy wooden door in his face. I crawled into my bed and heard Blake yell "Night!" That boy was starting to get on my nerves.


	7. Day 7: I said FRIENDS!

**Day 7: I said FRIENDS!  
**Walking to and fro in the throne room, I could barely think straight. I pondered whether or not it was a good idea to friend the green-eyed boy. Did I want to know more about him? Did I want to get closer to him? Or do I _like_ him? Well, I mean, whenever he got closer to me, my heart would stop pounding in my chest. With the smirk that played on his lips…Maybe I can just—NO MIKAYLA, JUST NO!

That doesn't sound right! But, at the same time, I felt like running my hands through his hair—OH SOMEONE STOP ME!

At one point, I felt as if befriending him was a brilliant idea. And at another time, I had no idea why I did what I did. Things won't go bad as long as he leaves me alone, right? _RIGHT?! _I'll just have the guards ban him from the castle. The only problem with that: the guards can't keep him out if they don't know what he looks like. And, if he got through the guards three times without them being the wiser, he can do it any time he liked! That and the guards aren't the best at what they do.

"Hello, Makoola."

Anger surged through me as I held back the temptation to punch him in the jaw. Slowly, I turned to face the voice which evidently belonged to Blake. My fists remained by my sides. The fear and worry disappeared from my facial features and was replaced by something I couldn't quite explain. Was it aggravation or rage? Or was it joy or grief? It was a conflicted emotion that is for sure. But, what exactly was I experiencing at that moment?

With his hands shoved deeply into his pants pockets, his smirk wider than ever, the boy standing in front of me looked amused. And I hated it.

"Aren't you going to fight back?" He walked up to me, the space between us closing quickly. "State that I shouldn't be messing with you because you're violent?"

A million comebacks formed in my head. But I did not say one. I, however, did manage to say one thing. "Do you not know the meaning of 'friends'?"

"Words can have more than one meaning and can be interpreted in many different ways. What's your definition of it?"

"Calling each other over the phone, and hanging out. NOT coming back to annoy the other person!"

He shrugged. "Then you and I are not alike in anyway." _I figured that out since the beginning, wise guy. _

"Why; what's your definition of the word?"

"I don't have a clue as to what that word really means. I never really had an actual friend." _You are so secretive. And you wonder why no one will give you the time of day._

"That's quite obvious, isn't it?" Blake said. Just then, I realized that I had muttered my last thought out loud. "No one will give _you_ the time of day because you're so talkative."

"I am not talkative!" I defended. "I tend to continue when given a chance to speak. For instance, I may have many things going in on my mind that I'd like to discuss with others. If I'm interested, I'll drag on the conversation even though the other person is quiet. I just don't like it when there's this silence hanging over the room, you know? It's not very exciting."

He raised an eyebrow: _See?_

"That means nothing!" I marched up the stairs, Blake more than obviously trailing after me. "Why can't you grasp the concept of 'friends'?!"

"'Friends' is such an odd word for me. Ever try-"

"Stalker?" I finished for him. "Because you sure are one."

* * *

I don't know how or when it happened, but when it did, I found myself tangled in sheets and on the floor. In the Kings' bedroom. _Fantastic._

"Go back to sleep." A voice demanded. "I'm getting tired of having to chase all over the castle."

I didn't need to turn around to know that Blake was there. I sensed that he was leaning against the pool table, arms crossed against his chest. "Did I just-"

"Yes, you lost it again." he walked over to the door. Over his shoulder, he called "You should thank me. If it wasn't for me dropping in, you wouldn't be alive today."

What he meant, I had no clue. I didn't get to ask him because, just like that, he disappeared. Or he finally decided to walk out the door like civilized person.


	8. Day 14: Aw?

**Really lame chapter, but it's an update, isn't it?**

* * *

**Day 14: Aw?**

Dear Dairy,  
First of all, I have no idea why I didn't BURN you. You may be a way for me to express my feelings in a very confidential way. But, to be honest, I hate you. Where were you when I was confused about my feeling for Blake? Or when I didn't know how trust him? (I still don't trust him, though.) If you knew how I felt, WHY did you NOT help me? I had no one else to turn to for advice, so I was stuck with you as my last option. Are you happy?

Speaking of Blake, I haven't seen him in a _week_. Seven days, twenty-four hours each. Meaning I didn't see him for about one hundred and sixty-eight hours (that is, if I did the math right). And, the most shocking part is that I actually _missed_ seeing him. That's not good, is it now?

The last time I saw him, he told me to 'thank' him. WHAT SHOULD I THANK HIM FOR IF I DON'T KNOW WHAT IS IT HE DID TO DESERVE IT?! He was very confusing. How can anyone understand - let alone _like_- him? Every time you believe you're going somewhere with him, he will lead you into a different direction. He was the type of person to show up at the least and most unexpected time. The only question is: Why follow me when there are plenty of other teenage girls to scare on Kinkow?

Seriously, he sure is one dedicated stalker if he keeps coming back. I can't handle him on my own anymore. I'm just fortunate that I finally got some time to myself. The problem I had to go through was that I finally realized that without Blake, my days became longer and less exciting. I've never realized how tedious it was.

Today, however, I had some relief when I saw the green-eyed boy leaning against a tree in the jungle. He seemed paler and…sorrow maybe? What was it that he was grieving over? It couldn't be-

"Mikayla." His tome was hushed, making me think that he hadn't muttered a single word.

But he did.

And it happened to be my name.

My _first_ name.

Now, getting excited over something as small and simple as this sounds so silly, doesn't it? Well, when one's only nickname for you is your last name, you should be filled glee.

"Go away." I held my unsheathed machete in front of me and took two steps backwards. I didn't mean to threaten him. It must have been a instinct of mine to hurt anyone who came within five or less feet of me. I didn't know.

He let out a laugh of...joy? What was it about me that amused him so much? "I'm not going to cause any you pain." He walked up to me. "I wanted to talk with you." Blake brushed a strand of hair out of my face, making me tense.

NO one was allowed to do that. And for him to do something like that was a mistake. A BIG one. I decided not show any signs of fright because it would make me look weak. And Makoolas are anything but vulnerable. So, I took a step forward.

With the biggest (and probably the most stupidest) grin plastered on my face, I said, "Look who's talking now-the guy who always has something to hide but nothing to share. Why don't you tell me; what is it you want to 'talk' about."

His eyebrow increased. He shoved his hands into his pants pockets. "Are you making fun of me? 'Cause I can leave right now if you'd like. I'd spend another week without having to see you." He turned his back to me, but he didn't walk away.

Was he trying to get me to snap-to see how well I performed under pressure? Well, it certainly worked. I placed a hand on his shoulder and spun him around. On his lips played a smirk-the same smirk that would irritate me so much.

I sighed. "Talk."

"Ever wonder why I ignored you for a week?"

"You finally found another girl to stalk?"

He tiltled his head to the side. I couldn't help but laugh. "I'm not a stalker."

"If not a stalker, then what are you?"

"I'm a-" He cut himself off and shook his head. "It's not important."

"Now everything is so un-important to you? Since when?"

"I didn't say that."

"Sounded like it to me."

"Yes; but you probably have to get your hearing checked."

"No; it's you who has a problem. I'm perfectly-"

"CAN I JUST TALK!"

It was the first time I saw that boy break and I liked it. I liked it very much. Who would know that trying to irk a person is easier and funnier than you'd thought?

"Go ahead." I gestured for him to continue.

He curled one of his hands into a ball and punched the closest tree. It was difficult for me to tell who got the worse part: the tree or him. "I had to get away from because I was gaining a small..." He trailed off. I thought my hearing was seriously messed up when I heard him whisper "...crush on you.."

WHAT THE HECK? There was absolutely no way he could be falling for me. Wait a second. If every other teenage boy on Kinkow hit on me, there was no doubt that he didn't have _some_ sort of feelings for me. But for him to come out straight and announce it? I had no idea as to how to react!

"HA!" I tried to laugh it off. "Nice joke!"

But he didn't laugh along. He stood quietly, his gaze locking with mine. The look in his eyes said that it was not funny, but indeed true. And in a way, I felt kind of guilty. Maybe I should of tried to make a joke out of it. But, what else should I have said: Aww, that's sweet! or Do you really mean it? 'Cause none of them sounded like a really good option to me at the time! And this was BLAKE I was talking to!

An awkward silence hung in the air. None of us spoke, yet I wanted him to say something. To take back what he said. I just didn't want it to be true! I couldn't look him in the eyes so, I glanced down at my feet. My head shot up when I had a question to ask. But I soon realized that I stood in the middle of the jungle, all by myself.


End file.
